$31,600. That's how much I paid for a bookstore parking space last Sunday.

Why, you're wondering, would I pay so much to park among all the T-shirt-hunting, Rudy-idolizing campus visitors? Well, because, the gate man made me.

My friends and I approached the seemingly friendly Main Gate to campus, bright, sweet-smelling flowers guarding the front, embracing us, as if to say "welcome to campus." We must've been hearing voices because the stern face that popped out of the Main Gate screamed Intruder! Intruder!

A full-year's tuition entitles each student to hours of homework, cheaper football tickets and a dorm room. But you can't even get on campus to enjoy these luxuries.

Everyone attending Notre Dame has played the "please let this work, I don't want to walk" game. Ironically, the game has led us to committing a sin. We are forced to come up with stupid, unbelievable lies just to get to the Basilica. It's the ultimate hypocrisy; we lie to get onto God's campus.

As far as the guards are concerned, the only time I need to get onto campus is when I'm picking up my grandmother from Health Services and I'm meeting my cousin at my dorm because she's a prospective from Hungary here to visit campus for the week.

Somehow, I think they're onto me.

In general, not all students wanting to get through those precious campus gates are looking to defame property or steal Mary from atop the Dome. That day, for instance, we merely wanted to drop off people at their dorms, then leave. We played the game all wrong, though. We had no plan. We decided, foolishly, to just wing it and see what happened. So at the last minute, we decided a cousin was waiting for us at McGlinn.

We got our best innocent, poker faces on, widened our smiles and got ready for action. As we got closer to the guard gate, our palms started sweating and we whispered to ourselves, stay cool, stay cool, we're in. The car and gate windows met, our eyes locked with the attendant's and all of a sudden our plan fell apart. Suddenly there was a cousin, grandmother and sick friend in the story and the guard saw right through our dastardly scheme. Our jig was up.

The ominous traffic gate came down before us like a guillotine, cutting us off from the rest of the Notre Dame world. The long arm of the law was literally keeping us from the very home we chose to spend our four years of academia.

It must have been my threatening face that tipped them off. Maybe it was my genuine smile or use of "please" and "thank you" that opened their eyes to my criminal campus intentions.

Keeping campus safe is an important issue, I realize this. I'm not suggesting the gate guards allow any and every person who approaches their gate's entrance. I ask that they keep only the obviously dangerous students off the premises. You know the ones — the predatorial types who roll up in their SUVs really slowly, smile politely at the attendant and ask to go to Lyons, Keough, or, God forbid, the administration building. Sure, these people must be stopped. Keep us safe, yes. But don't keep us away.

• Guillotine Gates